A/N: Yet another idea which won't leave me alone, so might as well write it down. I dedicate this story to all the authors who participated in the third AHS fic exchange, especially venom with love who wrote Leave It All Behind for me. She is a genius and my gift is a beautiful masterpiece; seriously, she will be getting my firstborn. And of course, give it up for jandjsalmon who was the mod for the exchange and continues to be our amazing, fearless leader.
This story is AU (c'mon, you all know how I love my AUs) – Tate and Violet are both alive in present time. Tate plays in a band and Violet auditions to be their singer. The song she sings for her audition is Peggy Lee's "Why Don't You Do Right?" I love Who Framed Roger Rabbit.
Tongue On The Blade
"Why do I have to be here?"
Travis, ever the patient one of their little ragtag band, winced before giving the same spiel he gave Tate two hours ago when they first started auditioning girls for their recently vacated spot of singer. He knew he shouldn't bitch, since it is his fault their last singer left, but after dozens of girls painfully warbling and screeching their way through Top 40 bullshit songs, he was getting pessimistic that they would find anyone with pipes that rivaled his newly minted ex-girlfriend's.
"C'mon, Tate, you're our lead guitarist. And more importantly, you're part of this band, and we have to do this all together."
Travis nods his head towards their drummer, Gabe, who gives Tate a look that clearly showed his exasperation.
"If you just shut your trap, we'd be done already. It's your complaining that is slowing this audition down."
Tate huffed back at Gabe, running his hand through his hair and rubbing his temples to try to ease the steadily growing migraine behind his eyes. He and Gabe weren't really friends, more like rivals who could put aside their differences for their mutual love of music. He probably also didn't win any points in Gabe's book when he and Chloe started dating despite Gabe's obvious crush on her. He felt like he should have felt bad, what with Bro Code and all, but seriously, the only move Gabe was able to put on her was staring at her from afar with starry eyes and Tate didn't believe in the ideal of courtly love. He didn't feel like he should apologize for actually having the courage to get up the balls to ask Chloe out, but apparently Gabe thought so, which made for a lot of angry looks and awkward practices. He was quite positive that Gabe indulged in some serious schadenfraude when he and Chloe broke up spectacularly at the end of practice one day, complete with screaming, tears, and, of course, the necessary door slamming, glass shattering exit of the rejected woman. Basically she was getting just way too needy, and jealous that he had the gall to talk to some hot, blonde fan of theirs for a while after a gig. If Tate hated anything, it was drama, and he didn't have the patience to put up with her growing insecurities. He needed a woman who wouldn't get up all in a huff because he refused to stop acknowledging the obvious fact that there were other attractive women in the world. He was sure Gabe was ready and waiting to scoop the wounded Chloe up in his arms, but to his delight she started dating the quarterback of the football team almost immediately after. He was also sure that her cheer squad finally breathed a sigh of relief that she was out of her rebel "boy band singer" phase, and back dating the stereotypically right men that she should be as head cheerleader.
Ever since then, he and Gabe were mostly able to keep the tension to a minimum, but there still were times that they really rubbed each other the wrong way, which is why he was eternally grateful for their bassist and resident peacekeeper Travis.
He looked at his watch and saw that it was already a half-hour past when the audition was supposed to end, which elicited a low groan of frustration. He was fucking tired and all he wanted to do was go home, crack open a beer, and maybe compose a song or two.
Travis looks over at him warily and he sighs, dismissively waving his hand at him.
"Fine, bring in the last girl. Let's pray she doesn't sound like a dying crow like the last one."
"Already here. And I appreciate your vote of confidence."
He whipped his head up to see a petite girl materialize out of the shadows of the garage and walk right up to the microphone on the stage they usually practice on. She was wearing a long dress and a large cardigan despite the heat, long straight blonde falling softly around her shoulders. She met his gaze and cocked her head, daring him to dispute her calling out on his shitty attitude. She raised her eyebrows when he gulped down the retort that was on his lips.
Travis nervously fiddled with his notebook and Gabe elbowed him in the ribs, which earned him a mean little laugh from her. She flipped her hair back and put her hands on her hips while she waited for him to recover, but thankfully Travis interrupted.
"So you are…?"
"Violet. Just moved to this shithole of a town. I heard about the audition from some fake blonde bimbos at school, and figured why the hell not."
Gabe shot her a smile, and Tate suddenly felt jealous for some reason when she returned it.
"Do you have any prior experience?"
"I sang a bit back in Boston. Coffee shops, a couple gigs."
He was now irrationally angry that her attention was on Gabe and he just blurted out the first thing that came to his mind because he wanted her focused on him.
"How good are you?"
Her smile fell into a tight-lipped line as her eyes shifted back to him, flashing dangerously, and it was like the wind had gotten knocked out of him.
Who was this girl?
"Good enough to get numbers from guys more famous than you."
He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly ready to go out and beat the crap out of those guys for even daring to ask for her number, and before he got to demand who she was talking about, which would have made him look like even more of an asshole, Travis hurriedly jumped in.
"Okay, let's see what you got."
"My pleasure."
Travis pushed play on the stereo and instead of some autotuned fluffy bubblegum pop or emo-screamo angst, Tate was shocked to hear the sounds of a piano, jazzy, seductive, and totally different. He felt like he was in a speakeasy of the 20s and the only thing missing was his highball. He looked up at Violet, and found her caressing the microphone, swaying sensually, eyes closed, and he knew that look because that was how he got when he was composing – everything else had faded away, and the only thing that existed for her was the music.
And then she sang.
"You had plenty money in 1922.
You let other women make a fool of you.
Why don't you do right like some other man do?
Get outta here, get me some money too."
He fell back against the couch, completely blown away.
Her voice was incredible.
He couldn't take his eyes off of her, the way her lips were almost kissing the microphone, the way her hips were swaying back and forth, the way her hands snapped along with the beat.
Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she looked right at him, eyes ablaze, and he felt mesmerized, utterly captivated by her, and that fierce gaze made him feel like she was singing the final line especially to him, challenging him personally with the last seductive question of the song.
"Why don't you do right like some other man do?"
After she finished, no one said anything.
He glanced over at both Travis and Gabe and he was sure both of them had their mouths hanging open.
She laughed, and that sound shocked them all back to reality.
"So what do you think, boys? Did I make the cut?"
Tate couldn't help but snort at her question. Did she make the cut? She fucking blew it out of the water.
He shared a look with his band mates and he knew they were thinking the same exact thing as he was. He got off the couch and walked right up to her, still drunk on her singing that last line to him, he knew it had to be for him from the way that she looked at him, that he dared to lean close to her ear to whisper what they, including her, all knew.
"Welcome to the band."
A/N: Short, but oh so good (I hope). Thoughts?